


Lingerie

by cozywilde



Series: Kinktober [13]
Category: Flight Rising
Genre: Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Cooking, Lingerie, M/M, Praise Kink, Rimming, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 16:04:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde
Summary: Tasnah's always complimenting Shran, and now Shran wants to show him the compliments aren't falling on deaf ears. What better way than with a fancy new outfit for Tasnah to admire?
Relationships: Shran/Tasnah
Series: Kinktober [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1243232
Kudos: 5





	1. Shopping

**Author's Note:**

> The actual "kink" half of this Kinktober lives in chapter two. Chapter one is just for Shran being an awkward bean. Enjoy.
> 
> [Shran](https://toyhou.se/3360890.shran), a gruff warrior with some self-esteem issues  
[Prisu](https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=54699&tab=dragon&did=40721968), an accomplished seamstress

It really is a shame, Shran thinks, that no one is here to commend him for the bravery it takes for him to push the shop door open and step inside. Yeah, he glances around a bunch before he does to make sure nobody sees, and he may have been loitering a little too long to make sure nobody else is in there, but still. He did it. 

Alright, it’s fucking stupid that it took him this long to do it in the first place. He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, and already he can feel that the skin is hot with a flustered blush beneath his hand. 

“Hi, can I help you?” 

He turns, meeting the eyes of the shopkeeper - ugh, he can’t remember her name, it’s something with a P maybe? - who looks politely interested. “I guess so. I mean, uh, yeah,” he adds, when she blinks with a look of polite confusion. Maybe he thinks her name starts with a P because she looks so damn polite. 

“Wonderful,” she says anyway, because, polite. “Something for you, or perhaps a gift?” 

Shran half-smiles, half-grimaces. “Uh… kinda both?” 

Now she really looks confused. Shran sighs. “So, the thing is… I’ve heard you’ve got stuff you can wear… in the bedroom?” 

Realization dawns in her eyes, and Shran kind of wants to die right there. “Of course, right this way. We’ll find something your…?” she trails off, expectant. 

“Boyfriend,” Shran blurts, and fuck’s sake, he’s blushing already. 

She smiles anyway, as if she finds his inability to act like a normal person vaguely charming instead of the absolute mortification it is. “Something your boyfriend will love.” She leads him past the racks of scarves and the shelves with neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants, through a curtained doorway and into a back room. She turns once they’re inside, hands folded in front of her. “Now then, was there something in particular you were looking for?” 

Shran runs his hand through his hair. “Thing is, I was sort of hoping… well, I don’t really know about any of this stuff.” He waves a hand to the displays around this smaller room, eyes skipping over satin nightgowns, lacy bras and panties, things with so many straps and ties he doesn’t even know what body part they’re supposed to _ go _on. 

“That’s quite all right, I’m happy to lead you through,” she says. She takes his arm and leads him over to a little nook in the corner he hadn’t noticed; there’s a full-length mirror, a curtain that he guesses leads to another room, and a cushy armchair that she nudges him to sit in. “Now, when you thought about coming here, what were you envisioning? Something a little more practical, that you could wear day-to-day just to feel a bit more special? Or is this for a special event?” 

“Well… I just thought, my - my boyfriend,” Shran stutters a bit, still in mild disbelief that he _ has _one, “he likes to… compliment me, I guess? Try to make me feel, uh…” 

“Like you’re handsome?” she suggests, and Shran nods. 

“Yeah. So… I thought maybe I could surprise him with something, show him that y’know, I hear him. And I appreciate it.” Shran looks determinedly away, absolutely sure he’s flushed up to his ears by now. 

“I think that sounds very nice, Shran,” she says kindly. 

He blinks. “You know who I am?” _ And she was still this nice? _Is the unspoken question behind it. 

“Mmhmm,” she says, smiling and tucking a lock of gold hair into her scarf. “Small town.” 

“Right,” he says awkwardly. “I, um…” 

“It’s Prisu,” she says, and he laughs gratefully. 

“Prisu. Nice to uh… actually meet you.” 

“And you,” she says. “Now, for the lingerie - do you happen to know if there’s anything in particular your boyfriend likes?” 

Shran shrugs. “We’ve never really talked about… well. He likes me in my workout clothes, I guess.” 

Prisu raises an eyebrow, though Shran feels like it’s more in judgement of Tasnah rather than him - an odd feeling for sure. “Hmm. I’d say he either has a thing for your muscles, or you’re comfortable in your workout clothes and he likes that confidence. Maybe both.” She taps her finger against her lip. “I can work with that. Let me get a few things.” 

She bustles around the room getting things off of shelves and racks, and Shran feels a little awkward just sitting there watching, but he also knows he’d be way more of a hindrance than a help if he got up. 

Prisu returns with her arms full of things on dainty hangers or neatly folded in stacks, and slips by him to go through the curtain - looking past her, he can see a small changing room with a simple bench and another long mirror. 

“Alright,” she says, ducking out again. “I’ve put a few things in there for you. I think they should be fairly self-explanatory as to how they go on, but do let me know if there’s anything I can help with, or if I should get you a different size..” She motions him in, and he gets up, unaccountably nervous. He draws the curtain aside and steps in, tugging it closed behind him. 

She’s left him three things to start with, and he goes for the one on the hanger first, since it seems the most straightforward. It’s a short dress, or maybe a long shirt, made of a silvery satin material that his rough, scarred hands catch on. 

He picks it up, and then realizes he can’t very well put it on over what he’s wearing. He sets it back on the rack, clattering a bit in his nervousness, and quickly kicks off his shoes, stripping out of his shirt and pants. He leaves his underwear on for now, one final barrier between him and this incredible awkwardness. 

Taking the little slip of fabric back in hand, he bunches it up to pull it over his head, sticking his arms through the holes with some difficulty. Once he makes it that far it falls down in a whisper of silky fabric, and he smooths it down without thinking. It falls just to the point where it covers his ass, but he’s pretty sure if he moves at all he’d be flashing anyone nearby. 

Shran takes a deep breath, then turns to the mirror. He’s surprised by how much he looks like _ him _\- it really is just him in a little dress thing. He twists to see the back, and even that much movement sets the tiny skirt fluttering, showing his black briefs. The back is… nonexistent, really. It scoops down from the shoulders, leaving his back bare until just over his hips. 

It’s… fine. He looks surprisingly decent in it, even though he’d honestly thought his broad shoulders would look ridiculous in something like this. But he can’t imagine how he’d wear it for Tasnah. Get home early and put it on, then just… wait? Slip into the bathroom when they’re getting ready for bed? It just seems weird. 

“Shran, are you doing okay?” 

“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Got, um, one of ‘em on.” 

“What are your thoughts?” Prisu asks. “Good or bad, it’ll help us figure out what works for you.” It’s oddly calming, the straightforward way she asks. 

“It fits pretty good,” Shran says, bending a little to see how it shifts. “It’s just… well, not exactly…” 

“Not exactly what you were looking for?” she finishes. Shran nods, and then realizes she can’t see. 

“Yeah. It’s the uh… silver one?” 

“Mm, makes sense. I wasn’t sure satin would be for you, but it was worth a try,” she says. “I’d try another. If you don’t feel comfortable in it, it’ll be obvious when you wear it. You won’t be sexy if you don’t _ feel _sexy.” 

“Right,” Shran says, smiling to himself a little. It sounds like something Tasnah would say. He shimmies out of the dress - which is harder than getting it on, somehow - and hangs it back up. It doesn’t look as neat as when Prisu had done it, but at least he isn’t leaving it in a pile on the floor. 

The next outfit is folded on the bench, and Shran picks it up, curious. It’s all a sheer pale blue fabric, and he sighs as he realizes it really does mean he has to lose his current underwear. He tugs them off, and then quickly tugs the new pair of panties on. 

He was wearing boxer briefs, and these are close to the same fit, but with _ way _ less on the ass. And also they’re basically transparent. Yup, he can very clearly see his dick through them. Shran has to sit to put on the rest - long stockings of the same sheer fabric that go halfway up his thighs. They make his legs look very long and very smooth, except for places where his scars and leg hair make the fabric bunch awkwardly. It takes about two seconds for him to acknowledge that no, he is _ not _committed enough to this concept to shave. 

Shran shucks them and folds them as closely to how they had been as he can manage, setting them back on the bench. “Trying the last one,” he says, in case Prisu’s wondering. The remaining outfit is another set of panties and stockings, though instead of just the sheer fabric, these have black lace. Also, there’s some kind of belt thing. 

He puts on the panties first, since those are straightforward enough. Then the stockings - these too go about halfway up his thighs, with a pretty lace pattern matching the panties. Then the belt - it takes some fumbling and muttered curses, but eventually he figures out how the strappy bits connect to the stockings, and straightens up to look in the mirror. 

_ Wow, _is his first thought, and then he flushes, embarrassed by himself. The stockings have the same effect on his legs as the previous ones did, but something about the texture of the lace makes it look less weird where it lies over the jagged edges of scars. And the panties… still semi transparent, obviously, but a little less… blatant, somehow? Thinking about Tasnah, and most particularly how he loves to tease, Shran thinks he’d like it. Maybe even love it. The belt, too - it makes his waist look especially trim, even with the pounds he’d put on since he started living with Tasnah. 

“Shran? Doing okay in there?” 

He jumps a bit, so lost in thoughts that Prisu’s soft voice startles him. “Yeah, yeah, fine. The lace ones? I - I like ‘em.” 

“That’s wonderful, I’m glad you’ve found something,” she says, and Shran can hear the smile in her voice. “The size is okay? Nothing too tight, or straps hanging loose…?” 

“I think it’s fine?” Shran says, though honestly he’s not sure how exactly it’s all supposed to fit. 

“Do you want me to take a look, or are you all set?” 

The thought of her taking a look makes Shran go red again. Not that he thinks she’d be weird about it - she’s been perfectly professional this whole time. No, he’d be the one to be weird about it. “No, I think it’s good,” he says with more confidence. He moves around a bit to check - stretching to touch his toes, leaning from side to side. Everything stays in place, nothing pulling or tugging too much, so he calls it good. 

“Alright then, glad to hear it,” she says. “Is there anything else you want to try, or is that all?” 

“I think that’s all,” Shran says, a little disbelieving. He’d actually done it. 

“Perfect, why don’t you get dressed and I’ll wait for you at the register? Just leave the other things in there, I’ll put them back where they belong.” 

“Sure, thanks,” Shran says, and hears her light footsteps crossing the room, the soft hush of the curtain between the back room and the front sliding open and then shut behind her. 

He undresses in a daze, pulling off the lingerie with care and already kind of wishing he had it on again. Maybe he could have, he should have asked Prisu before she’d gone - but no, Tasnah would definitely notice if he was wearing it when he got home tonight, and it’s already kind of late. Shran wants it to be special, already guessing that Tasnah will need plenty of time to explore the outfit, more time than they’ll have tonight. 

So he pulls his boring black boxer briefs back on, and his clothes. Scooping up his bundle of black lace, he makes his way back to the front, and the deities grant his fervent prayers by ensuring it’s just him and Prisu, still no other customers to see him and his purchase. Not that he’s _ ashamed _or anything, but it seems like every damn person in this town is friendly with Tasnah, and the chances of someone spilling the beans early is way too high with any witnesses. 

“Just so you’re aware, you can always bring it back here for sizing adjustments or repairs if you have any trouble later on,” Prisu says, scribbling down the details on a receipt after they’ve exchanged coin for neatly wrapped purchase. Shran’s relieved to see she’s put it in a nondescript bag, something Shran can easily tuck away without Tasnah noticing. 

“Thanks,” he says, hesitating before he adds, “Really. I would’ve been totally lost.” 

Prisu smiles, tucking the coins away into her register. “It was my pleasure. Let me know how it goes, hm? Or if your boyfriend ever wants to dress up for you, I hope you’ll tell him where to come.” 

Shran grins, a lopsided effort that’s pretty out of practice, but it’s there. “Well, he might need some custom stuff. He’s, uh… big.” 

“I can do custom orders,” Prisu says promptly, and it surprises a laugh out of Shran. 

“I’ll tell him,” he promises. “Thanks again.” 

“Thank you, and have a lovely evening,” Prisu says. 

“You too,” Shran says, and surprises himself by actually meaning it.


	2. Wearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The main event!
> 
> [Shran](https://toyhou.se/3360890.shran), a gruff warrior with some self-esteem issues  
[Tasnah](https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=360629&tab=dragon&did=47297450), a insufferably affectionate baker

Tonight’s the night. 

Shran had begged off guard practice early, though there was very little begging involved, to his surprise - he’d asked T’Bren if he could head out a couple of hours early, and she’d immediately agreed. Something about “already spending more extra hours in the training grounds than every other guard combined”, apparently. 

With all of the other guards embroiled in T’Bren’s aggressive drills, he has the locker rooms to himself, which is another distinct benefit of taking off early. He needs to scrub off the sweat and dust of the training grounds, first off, and without a couple dozen other guards in the showers at once there’s a lot more hot water for him. Second, once he’s toweled himself off, he definitely could do without any witnesses as he gets dressed. 

Shran has practiced a little in the weeks since he bought this outfit, how to carefully bunch up the stockings and unroll them gradually to get a smoother fit without all his leg hair getting yanked the wrong way, how to clip the garter belt in place with enough give that it doesn’t pull too tight, how to carefully tuck his dick into the panties so it doesn’t end up sticking out one of the leg holes. He’s still flushed a delicate pink as he does all this, standing on one of the benches to get a look at the fit in the small bathroom mirror. 

Everything looks good, so Shran pulls on sweatpants and a light workout shirt. If he bends a certain way and squints he can see the outline of the lace beneath, but barring that, it’s invisible. And he hardly thinks anyone but Tasnah is going to look that hard. Now… it’s time to head home. 

He’s unaccountably tense on the walk there, watching everyone he passes with a sharp assessing eye to see if they notice anything off. Other than the way he’s squinting at them, which he realizes halfway there might be having an effect. Thankfully (kind of?) everyone already seems to think he’s so goddamn weird that they’re not really paying him any mind. 

By the time he makes it back home, he can see light shining through the kitchen window in the slowly dimming twilight. A moment later a broad shape crosses it, and Shran smiles. Tasnah’s home, and by the looks of it, making dinner. 

Shran pushes through the front door, hanging his training bag on a hook in the hallway. “Hey, I’m home,” he calls, and Tasnah’s head promptly pokes out of the kitchen to greet him. 

“Hi, love!” he says, wiping his hands off on a towel. “This is early, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Shran says, kicking off his shoes before he heads toward Tasnah. “T’Bren said it was fine if I headed out. I, uh… wanted to see you.” 

“Oh, that’s wonderful, I’ll have to thank her,” Tasnah says, and scoops Shran into a hug. Shran breathes deep and squeezes back, the feeling of being in Tasnah’s arms soothing as always. 

“I already thanked her,” Shran says, a little defensive. He’s not completely mannerless anymore.

Tasnah smiles. “Well, I’d still like to. It’s such a treat to have you home early. Now, are you tired, or do you want to lend a hand with dinner?” 

“I’ll help, I got to leave early after all,” Shran says. “What’re you making?” 

Some kind of stew, apparently, which involves chopping a bunch of vegetables and then leaving it to cook for a while. Shran sets to work on carrots while Tasnah measures out spices, and for a while they’re both quiet, intent on their tasks. 

“All done?” Tasnah asks, and Shran nods, using the knife to scrape the carrot chunks into a pile. Tasnah takes the cutting board and dumps them in along with all of the other ingredients, topping it off with his spices and then setting the lid on top. 

“Now we just let it stew a while,” Tasnah says, resting a hand on the small of Shran’s back as he reaches past him to put the cutting board and knife into the sink. “And then we -” 

He trails off, and Shran prods, “And then what?” 

Tasnah’s hand slides firm over Shran’s back, down to his waist, back up again. Shran slowly flushes, realizing he’s feeling the lines of the garter belt under his shirt. 

“Shran?” Tasnah says, a note of intrigued confusion in his voice. “What’s this?” 

Shran bites his lip. The kitchen wasn’t exactly what he’d been picturing for a venue, but… “How about you take my shirt off and find out?” he suggests, turning to face Tasnah. His hand slips from Shran’s back, but Tasnah’s quick to replace it at his waist, slowly gathering the fabric and tugging up a little. Shran watches his face, trying to keep his own impassive, hoping to the gods that Tasnah likes it, at least doesn’t think it’s weird. 

Tasnah’s hand slowly raises the shirt enough to reveal the skin of Shran’s belly, and cutting across it, lacy black straps. “Oh. Oh my,” Tasnah says softly, his other hand reaching out to smooth over the lace. Shran’s heart thunders in his chest, grateful for the momentary reprieve he gets when Tasnah abruptly pulls the shirt over his head. 

He must throw it aside somewhere, because both of Tasnah’s hands are immediately back on him, tracing over the garter belt. Shran shivers as one of his fingers skims beneath it. “So, uh… d’you like it?” 

Tasnah blinks, finally looking up. “Oh Shran, I - I _ love _it,” he sighs, squeezing Shran’s waist. “You did this for me?” He sounds almost baffled by his own question, as if he doesn’t spend each and every day doting on Shran somehow. 

“Yeah,” Shran says. His hands fumble behind him until he reaches the counter, knowing from the hungry look in Tasnah’s eyes that he’ll need the support. 

He’s right, because the next thing Tasnah does is hook his fingers under the waistband of Shran’s pants, tugging out and down. Shran arches his hips away from the counter helpfully, but Tasnah doesn’t pull his pants down much farther, just saying “oh _ my” _under his breath again. 

“Tasnah,” Shran protests, nudging his hip against Tasnah’s hand. Tasnah ignores his prompting, fingers smoothing along the lace that frames Shran’s hip, trailing over to where his half-hard dick is cradled by the fabric. Shran makes an impatient noise, and Tasnah laughs. 

“It’s my present, right? So let me enjoy it,” Tasnah murmurs. “You look so _ handsome, _Shran, so pretty, what a delightful surprise -“ he tugs Shran’s pants back up and Shran huffs in disbelief. “Wow, you really can’t tell with these on. And then -“ Tasnah pulls them down again, practically giggling in his delight. “Wow. Just - wow.” He traces a hand over Shran’s dick again, the feel of it different through the lace, though Shran hardens as quickly as ever under the warm pressure of his palm. 

“I sort of thought you might want to see the _ rest,” _he says pointedly, if breathily, and Tasnah blinks. 

“You - more?” he says nonsensically, and Shran’s the one laughing now. 

“Yeah, _ more. _ Or did you think those straps didn’t go somewhere?” Shran nods to the thin straps Tasnah’s other hand absently trails over, and arches his hips away from the counter again. “ _ C’mon.” _

This time Tasnah’s curiosity gets the best of him and he lets Shran’s pants fall to the floor, gasping in an extremely gratifying way as the full length of the stockings are revealed. Shran quickly kicks the pants away before Tasnah can get started on another round of peekaboo. 

“Oh, Shran, how _ lovely, _ ” Tasnah says, immediately dropping to his knees. His hands start at Shran’s ankles, smoothing up his calves, hooking behind his knees. “Look how they frame your legs, and your _ thighs, _gods -“ he leans forward, mouthing kisses over the lacy edge of the stockings where they end halfway up Shran’s thigh. Shran shivers, hands gripping hard on the counter, wanting to let his head roll back at the sweet warmth of Tasnah’s kisses but not wanting to miss a single one of his affectionate looks either. 

“What am I going to do with you…” Tasnah murmurs, and Shran bites his lip on a moan, well familiar with that low, seductive tone. “Or… did you have something particular in mind, love? Something you wanted me to do while you were dressed up so pretty?” 

“I - fuck,” Shran swears, as Tasnah chooses that moment to lean forward to nuzzle at his dick through the lace. “I dunno, whatever you want.” 

Tasnah hums, and the vibrations make Shran arch forward, greedy for more. “I think a gorgeous, handsome, confident man like yourself should get to ask for anything he wants. So what do you want, darling?” 

_ “Shit, _Tasnah,” Shran says, flustered, because he still can’t believe Tasnah can just say things like that. “How about - we go to bed? And you, you use your mouth,” he manages, which is really amazing, because the moment he suggests it Tasnah’s already pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to his dick, the fabric growing damp - Shran couldn’t say whether it’s his own precome or Tasnah’s saliva. Either way it’s clinging worse than ever now, the thin fabric doing nothing to disguise how hard he is, twitching towards Tasnah’s lips. 

“That sounds perfect, love,” Tasnah murmurs, not bothering to pull away even an inch, his lips moving against Shran’s skin. “You’re absolutely right, a lovely man like you deserves to be laid out on soft sheets and _ worshipped, _not pressed against a kitchen counter.” 

“I think the kitchen counter has its merits sometimes,” Shran says, and Tasnah laughs, pushing himself to his feet. The way his weight presses warm against Shran’s front almost makes him reconsider his request for a bed, but then Tasnah’s hands slide under his thighs and lift him up in one easy motion, and yeah, having an absolutely giant guy for a boyfriend really does have its perks. 

Shran slides his arms over Tasnah’s shoulders, a movement that’s become more and more familiar, something he can do as easy as breathing now. Held up in Tasnah’s arms like this, the only less than ideal thing is his distance from Tasnah’s dick, but he can live with it. 

“Good?” Tasnah confirms, shifting Shran in his arms a bit, testing to make sure he’s held securely. 

“Yup,” Shran replies, squeezing his legs around Tasnah’s waist. 

“Good.” Tasnah walks out of the kitchen, leaving the stew simmering gently on the stove. On the one hand, Shran hopes it doesn’t burn and ruin Tasnah’s efforts. On the other hand… fuck the stew, honestly. 

It’s only a few moments until Tasnah nudges open the bedroom door, laying Shran on the covers with utmost care before he lights the lamps, casting the room in a soft, warm glow to match the sunset peeking through the curtains. When he turns back to the bed his eyes glint in the low light, heated despite how Shran is just sitting there exactly how he’d left him. The thought of assuming some kind of sexy pose only hits him now, of course, when Tasnah’s watching him already, and he’d probably die of mortification if he tried now. Besides…

“You look _ so _gorgeous, love,” Tasnah says, stepping forward to join Shran on the bed. Shran’s body shifts as Tasnah’s weight makes the mattress slope down, gravity drawing them together effortlessly. Tasnah’s hands cup his calves once more, massaging the tight muscles through the thin fabric, and Shran sighs, leaning back on his elbows. Gods it feels good, those broad palms warm and soothing wherever they touch with such gentle care. 

“Just relax,” Tasnah encourages, as his hands slide further up Shran’s legs. “Let me take care of you, let me _ appreciate _you like you deserve…” 

It should be impossible with Tasnah’s fingers skimming teasingly over the lace at his thighs, but the words in Tasnah’s low rumble of a voice draw any tension from Shran’s muscles, and he lays back with a sigh, eyes sliding shut. 

“Good, that’s so good,” Tasnah murmurs, and there’s his mouth, just like Shran asked for. His lips press slow, hot kisses to Shran’s thighs, over lace and bare skin alike. Shran moans, a soft sound of appreciation, and Tasnah rubs a hand over his hip. “That’s right, make all the noise you want, sweetheart. You sound perfect, don’t hold back.” 

For once Shran doesn’t protest Tasnah’s molasses-slow pace. It feels right somehow, this careful reverence, and maybe it’s fine for now that it’s all tied up in the lace and sheer fabric he’s decked out in. Someday maybe he’ll let Tasnah do this when it’s just him, but for now, as Tasnah’s tongue traces the strap connecting stocking to belt, he’s glad for the lovely frame for his messiness that lets him accept this kind of softness with ease. 

“You want to keep this all on, darling?” Tasnah asks, when his mouth reaches Shran’s hip. His fingers pluck at the strap, then slide under the edge of the panties. 

Words are difficult, Shran’s mind gone hazy and warm, but he says, “Mm… yeah. I mean, if you can just - pull it aside…?” 

“Of course,” Tasnah says, laying another kiss on the jut of Shran’s hipbone. He still keeps everything in place for now, kissing over the panties and steadfastly ignoring the instinctive, desperate hitches of Shran’s hips. Shran doesn’t complain with words, but his low whine when Tasnah detours up to his belly says plenty. Tasnah laughs, and that plaintive whine turns into a moan as Tasnah’s tongue flicks over the sensitive skin below his belly button. 

_ “Tasnah,” _Shran moans, hips jerking up when he just can’t take it anymore, and Tasnah smiles up at him. 

“Alright, love,” he says, rubbing Shran’s hip, both calming and keeping him from squirming too much. “Alright, whatever you need.” 

To Shran’s relief he slides his fingers under the top of the panties again, carefully pulling them up and over the straining line of Shran’s dick, hard enough to slap against his belly when the wetly clinging fabric releases him. Tasnah gets the panties bunched just under Shran’s balls before he turns his attention back to where Shran wants it, casting him a fond, heated look before he drags his tongue up the length of his cock. 

Shran cries out, bucking into the wet heat of it, legs tensing around Tasnah’s shoulders. Tasnah rumbles a low laugh before his hands slide back down to Shran’s thighs, fingers tucking under the straps connecting Shran’s stockings to his belt and holding him tight. He presses an open mouthed kiss to the head of Shran’s cock, making him jerk and then whine as his mouth opens to draw him in. 

Tasnah’s always so careful with blowjobs, worried about his sharp tusk, but Shran’s far beyond being concerned about that as he tries to rock up into the wet heat of his mouth. Tries to, because Tasnah still has firm hold of him, steadying his restless movements as he slowly sinks down, then draws back up with a gentle suction that nonetheless has Shran moaning, head thrown back against the pillows. 

By the fifth slow pass of Tasnah’s mouth or so, Shran feels like he’s nothing more than molten, needy heat, melting against the pillows. Even the thick pressure growing deep in his belly can’t motivate him to move, instead just moaning as Tasnah drags pleasure from him with each slow suck, each teasing lick. He’s so close, heartbeat loud in his ears, muscles in his belly tensing, and then Tasnah pulls off. 

Shran cries out wordlessly in protest, and Tasnah hums a soft acknowledgement, though he’s smiling as he presses a nowhere-near-satisfying-enough kiss to the tip of Shran’s dick. 

“Shran, love, will you turn over for me?” Tasnah says. 

“Why?” Shran says, still not quite out of it enough to admit to the petulant whine in his voice. “I like you where you are now.” 

Tasnah chuckles, patting Shran’s hip. “Please? I still haven’t gotten a good look at you from the back, and I am absolutely positive that you’re a sight worth savoring.” 

“Coulda just said you wanted to look at my ass,” Shran grumbles, but he does flip, and immediately rocks his hips against the mattress for a little relief. Not for long though - the mattress shifts beneath him as Tasnah moves closer, his broad hands sliding around Shran’s hips to tug them up. 

“Oh, look how pretty,” Tasnah sighs, and Shran flushes, tucking his face into his arms. One of Tasnah’s hands slides to the back of his thigh, tracing along the strap that connects the stockings to the belt. Tasnah follows it up with his fingers, lingering at the curve of Shran’s ass. 

He kisses over the same spot, and then his hands frame Shran’s ass in a way he’s become more than familiar with, already shivering with anticipation as Tasnah’s tongue slides over his hole. The sound he makes in response is senseless, fingers curling into the sheets as slick warmth nudges into him, teasingly slow. Tasnah can’t speak when he’s wrecking Shran with his tongue, but somehow there’s still praise in every squeeze of his fingers, every soft murmur of pleasure at doing this for him. It unravels Shran embarrassingly quickly, his breath hitching frantically, dick twitching and dripping onto the sheets below him. 

Tasnah pulls back to breathe, to urge him, “Let go, Shran, darling, you can let go for me,” and then his tongue pushes into him again and in one hot rush Shran moans, and comes, and comes. 

When he comes back to himself he’s warm, curled under the pleasant weight of Tasnah’s arm. When he blinks down at himself, he’s kind of surprised to still see the stockings and belt on him; he’s almost stopped noticing they’re there. He’s just… comfortable. 

“Oh, hello,” Tasnah says softly, evidently noticing he’s awake. He leans forward to kiss Shran’s cheek. “That was amazing. _ You’re _ amazing.” 

Shran laughs. “I think you mean _ you. _I fuckin’ blacked out.” 

Tasnah just hums, noncommittal. “Well, I was inspired.” His hand settles on Shran’s hip, stroking over the belt. “You’re just so _ gorgeous, _Shran.” 

Shran flushes, ducking his head. “Yeah, it’s a pretty outfit.” 

Tasnah smiles, dropping another kiss on the blushing curve of Shran’s cheek. “I didn’t mean the lingerie.”


End file.
